


And For What

by funnylittleguy



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Episode: s02e12 The Alternate, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funnylittleguy/pseuds/funnylittleguy
Summary: Maybe they weren't so different, after all. Or maybe that was the entire point.Set just after the events of The Alternate.
Relationships: Odo & Quark (Star Trek), Odo/Quark (Star Trek)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	And For What

Doctor Mora had left for Bajor hours ago. Odo knew this, saw it with his eyes and perceived it, had heard Commander Sisko confirm it over comm. Yet… Odo looked up from his desk, Quark’s request for assistance at the bar ignored once again. Yet, traces of Doctor Mora remained, on the station and on his skin; a force bearing down upon his shoulder where his uniform met the open air, the ghost of a parting touch. Solid against solid: a promise of permanence.

Odo had broken that promise. Hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t matter to him. Did it matter to Commander Sisko, or Major Kira, or whomever had pointed their phaser at him on the promenade? _I’m not sure what it was,_ Doctor Bashir had said later in the infirmary, _We’re lucky Dr. Mora caught it before any more harm was done._

Whatever the doctor’s intent, Odo knew what he’d meant— _You are here because of him, and not because of you._ He balled his hands into fists, clenched his jaw. Asserting himself meant vindicating Doctor Mora, meant justifying the pain. Maybe it was worth it, Odo thought. He’d done well enough for himself, hadn't he. He picked up his PADD.

 _A Bajoran experiment on loan._ _A trial run. A peace offering._

The PADD slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor.

“The hu-mons give you all that fancy dreck, and for what? I still have to come _all_ the way down here to—oh.” Quark appeared in the doorway, his hands poised in the air like he wasn’t sure where to put them. Odo wearily looked on as he set them on the doorframe, cursing the way his lip was trembling. He tried his best to reconstitute. Doctor Mora was one thing, but Quark? “Ah, right. I forgot.”

Odo said, “You have a situation in the bar. I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Odo, who _was_ that.” Quark’s face was pinched. Odo opened his mouth, but Quark interjected, “I mean, the doctor. I know the goo was you.”

“He’s who I said he was.”

Quark scoffed. “Yeah, all right. So, what, he’s like… your father, or something?”

“Or something,” Odo grumbled, feeling miserable and small. Quark stepped across the threshold and leaned against Odo’s desk. _“Get_ your hands away my comm board.”

He obliged, putting them behind his back instead, something he probably had picked up from Officer Dax. “I’m hurt, Odo.”

“Go to the infirmary, then.”

Quark was simpering, which Odo didn’t have to tolerate in his own office, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. _“Because,_ you never told me about this… Doctor Mora, was it? Before you had to, that is, otherwise I’m sure I never would have found out. And what a shame, too. You’d’ve found that you and I relate to a lot more than you thought.” 

“Oh, really.”

“Misunderstood non-humanoids, thrust under the Federation’s rules and regulations, meant for people like them and not like us… don’t tell me it’s just me who sees the similarities.”

Odo rolled his eyes, but Quark was right. That was not something he was willing to admit aloud. Though by the glint in the Ferengi’s eyes, he didn’t need to. “Perhaps.”

“It’s hard, sure,” Quark said. He punctuated his words with hand flourishes. “No one trusts you, they’re always looking at you from the sides of their eyes. You wonder, maybe it would be better if you went back to where you came from. But you’re not welcome there either.”

“People don’t trust you because you’re a conman.”

“I’m a Ferengi,” said Quark, lifting his chin high. “And that’s what I’m trying to _say_ , Odo. You’re not one of them. You’re not Bajoran, or hu-mon, or Cardassian. You’re a changeling, and that means something."

He stepped around the desk to Odo’s chair, tilting his head. “But you need to figure out what that is, first."

Odo blinked, his brow furrowing. How many times would he have to concede to Quark tonight? “Hmmph.”

Quark smiled, patted him on the shoulder, squeezing gently. “You know, I'm sure a drink would help—"

“Stop while you're ahead, Quark."

“All right, all right. But think about what I said. You’re not one of them. Especially not that _fucking_ doctor.” Odo flinched; not so much at the harsh translation of Ferengi profanity, but the ferocity Quark had said it with. Quark stepped forward. He reached a hand out and mussed his hair, gently bringing strands down to frame both sides of his face. Odo tried looking at a point behind Quark, but even that proved too much, and he shut his eyes. Moments later, Quark leaned back, admiring his work, then withdrew entirely. “Goodnight, Odo.”

He left without another word from either of them, humming his way down the hall.

Odo leaned back in his chair, twitching at the feeling of loose hair on his forehead. "Pah," he grumbled, and he reached to push it back into place. Then stopped, his frown deepening in thought.

Quark had accepted his place on the station, but had never assimilated into it: he hired only Ferengi waitstaff and advertised holosex next to educational programs and swindled his own superiors, smuggled illegal substances under Odo's own nose. Rom had fallen into place long ago, and Nog was set to do the same. Not once had Odo stopped to think that this could be Quark's assertion of his identity against the Starfleet corporate culture of honor and the pursuit of objective truth, something that Odo himself had found himself a main impetus. 

Dr. Mora hadn't understood him either. Didn't. 

Couldn't.

Though Odo hardly found himself comparable to Dr. Mora in the same way, it couldn't be denied that he was a driver of assimilation, of compliance...

He shook his head. Security was more important than Quark's comfort, as unfortunate as that was for him. _The work we were doing..._

His chair slammed against the wall as he stood up, his jaw trembling. Balled his hands into fists. Scrunched his eyes shut... Again the tickle of hair on his forehead. Something tugged at the corner of his mouth. He wrangled it still, but the feeling remained.

He needed a drink.

**Author's Note:**

> i've never watched star trek until like. two weeks ago so i hope you'll excuse any extensive lack of knowledge here. i think they're funny little guys that's all


End file.
